Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Winter in Romania -White Thoughts

Then, a thick silence descends, and my every gestureleaves a comet tail in the heavens.

And I hear evey glance I cast as it echoes against some tree.

How transparent your hands are in winter!

My nostrils tremble and no scent and no breeze

...only the distant, icy smell of the suns.

And no one passes -

He offered me a branch like an arm.

I passed through him. He passed through me. I remained a solitary tree.

I could hear his sap quicken, beating like blood.He could hear my blood slacken like rising sap.

The field stretched on its back, near the horizon,

Full of ice

and the trees stopped running from the winter wind ...

Stuck in ice...

and the thought spreads in circles

ringing the trees...

....and the Sea.

...Then we met more often. I stood at one side of the hour,you at the other,like two handles of an amphora. Only the words flew between us,back and forth. You could almost see their swirling,and suddenly,I would lower a knee,and touch my elbow to the groundto look at the grass, bentby the falling of some word,as though by the paw of a lion in flight. The words spun between us,back and forth,and the more I missed you, the morethey continued, this whirl almost seen,the structure of matter, the beginnings of things.

Winter might be cruel, but no one can deny its beauty. In fact, it might be the most beautiful of the four seasons, and you have captured winter in its truest splendor, Daliana.

Your photographs make me wish to lift off into the air and to soar above the snow-laden trees as an eagle might, or even to wade into the open waters, drawn by the illusion that nothing so stunning could be a danger. I am like a moth, drawn not to flame, but to snow and ice.

The words which accompany your photos are magical and the music is alluring. They are like arms reaching out across time and distance -- even across oceans.